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by Dark Ice Dragon
Summary: Yomiel couldn't feel anything.


**Summary** : Yomiel couldn't feel anything.

Contains suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, gore, body horror

Spoilers for the end of the game.

Thanks to Myriade for reading this over!

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By Dark Ice Dragon

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"N-no!" It couldn't be-! Yomiel dived for his fiancée's still body by their bed, pressing his fingertips to her neck. He'd thanked the Gods for letting him keep his connection with his body after he'd died, but was this the price for his life? Someone else had to die in his place?

He couldn't feel her heartbeat.

That - that didn't mean anything. His sense of touch was muted now, like he was in an ill-fitting suit that was too big for him and he couldn't quite reach out the end of the sleeves. That had to be the side effect of leaving his body. His sense of touch would come back again. He just had to wait.

Sissel's body was cold; Yomiel could feel _that_ and... He swallowed out of habit, wanted to calm his breathing even though it _was_ calm when it _should_ have been quick and shallow.

Her chest wasn't moving either.

No... Yomiel squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. If he hadn't taken so long, if he'd gotten back sooner... She could still be alive.

But that didn't mean she was gone.

"Sissel?" Yomiel whispered, opened his eyes and looking around. "Are you there?"

He waited, not breathing, but he didn't hear anything. Nothing moved.

There was a white card on the floor next to Sissel that Yomiel had ignored because it wasn't important. Hadn't _thought_ it was important.

There was only one sentence on it, in Sissel's blocky handwriting: 'I'm coming to you, Yomiel.'

But...he was _right here_.

And she wasn't.

So there was only one thing he had to do.

He lurched to his feet, turning away from her corpse and headed to their kitchen. There were more than enough instruments to kill himself there.

He pulled out the largest blade out of the woodblock (a gift they'd received when they'd first moved in, and Yomiel hadn't been sure if they would ever wear down all the knives in it) and aimed the point at his chest. If he could get a lung or his heart, that would be enough to kill him again.

He closed his eyes and wrapped the handle with both hands in a tight grip. He couldn't think too much or he would made himself hesitate so he gritted his teeth, exhaled through his nose and plunged the blade into his chest.

The knife sliced through his flesh like he was just another slab of meat. It nicked off a rib, the knife twisting further inside.

He couldn't feel it.

The knife was hilt deep in him but there was no pain. No blood. It was as if he'd used a fake knife, but he could _see_ the last sliver of the blade between his chest and the hilt.

Maybe. Maybe he was too numb from everything else he couldn't feel it. Or the blade was acting like a stopper for the blood flow. If he pulled it out-!

The knife came out with a slick sound.

It was clean. As if it hadn't been used. It should have been covered in blood and muscle.

The knife clattered to the kitchen tiles as it slipped from Yomiel's grasp. It didn't change, wasn't an illusion.

What-? Yomiel grasped his chest, finding the hole the knife had left in his suit. He prodded further and his fingertips connected with flesh. He pushed more and he wasn't touching skin, the area wet, and then there was something solid at his fingertips.

Bone.

The give was getting tighter, forcing his fingers out, and Yomiel lifted his shirt in time to see the wound close up without any hint he had been stabbed. No scar. No blood. Flawless.

The same happened to his shirt.

Was it... Was it because he'd died he couldn't die again?

He slumped against the kitchen countertop, bracing his hands against the edge. He couldn't join Sissel like she'd wanted to.

Yomiel stared down at the knife and its clean blade.

Maybe that hadn't been enough. Maybe. Maybe there was a limit to what he could heal, so if he damaged his body enough _then_ it would die.

But what...?

The lights of a passing car lit the window for a second.

That should do it.

Sissel wouldn't have to wait long for him.

The street was dark and quiet when he got to it (which was one of the reasons why they'd picked this house), but if he kept going, he would find a busy enough street.

It didn't take him long to hear the rumble of an approaching car. It was going above the speed limit, and that was exactly what he needed. He waited for the last moment and stepped out.

The car slammed into him full force and Yomiel heard his bones snap as he was flung into the air.

He still felt nothing.

No air was punched out his lungs, blood didn't roar in his ears, even as he slammed back onto the road, his skin scraping as he skidded a couple metres before rolling to a stop.

It was as if he was floating inside a tank, where water and glass separated him from everything else. He could see out into the the world, but reach out and touch it? _Feel_ it? No.

That wasn't something he could do anymore.

Yomiel lay there, petrol stinging the inside of his nose. His bones were already shifting back into their proper places, but he didn't care. What was the point doing anything? His fiancée was dead, _he_ was dead, and if the police knew he was 'alive', they would hunt him down again.

But... It wasn't as if he could wait for death either. He doubted hunger would kill him, not if he'd survived a car crash and the car had ended up worse than him.

He blinked at a 'meow' right by his ear, and black fur filled his vision, followed by the sound of purring.

Was it the kitten he'd possessed after he'd died?

The kitten squeezed into the small gap under his chin, meowing again, and Yomiel raised a hand to pet it.

The kitten was warm, pressing into his touch as it purred louder.

"You're probably hungry," Yomiel mused. Maybe _he_ was hungry too, but he couldn't recognise that feeling anymore. He couldn't die, but he couldn't live either, not without the police knowing...

The police.

If they hadn't arrested him, if they hadn't forced him to run... Yomiel narrowed his eyes as he stood up, the kitten moving to his shoulder.

None of this would have happened if it wasn't for _them_. It was their faults. It was because of _them_ he'd lost _everything_.

So he would make them pay for everything they'd cost him, every single one. 

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I'd wanted to have Yomiel name Sissel, but it didn't quite fit.


End file.
